


Under A Neon Moon

by RVA_Writer



Series: Shadowrun: The Dragon Prince [1]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shadowrun AU, F/M, Retelling of Book 1: Moon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28103958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RVA_Writer/pseuds/RVA_Writer
Summary: Two AI that belonged to Tir Taingire have been destroyed and the elves blame Katolis Corp. The AI Dragon Queen has enlisted the help of the elite assassins of Xadia Incorporated to get revenge. However when one of the SINless elven assassins and two SINer corporate kids find something in the Katolis Arcology they have to race against time to stop a corporate war that has been brewing for decades between the companies that could come to a head as a result of the destruction of the Dragon King and Dragon Prince AIs
Series: Shadowrun: The Dragon Prince [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2058897
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	Under A Neon Moon

**Author's Note:**

> The years is 2055, this puts the universe at about Shadowrun 2nd Edition
> 
> There are some major changes to the universe that will be part of this fic:
> 
> \- The magic system works like The Dragon Prince with the Primal Sources, Dark Magic and Primal Stones  
> \- Elves are the only metahumans (No trolls, orcs or dwarves)  
> \- Only awakened beings can use magic (Humans are not considered awakend beings, metahumans are)  
> \- Nations are racially segregated. Racism is common and often violent. For the purpose of this story we only care about the UCAS, Seattle specifically, which is a human nation and Tir Taingire, which is an elven nation. 
> 
> Chapter count of 20 is just a place holder. It may be shorter, but probably not longer.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rayla gets her first run, and she screws up almost immediately. Now she seeks to prove herself worthy of returning home.
> 
> Callum spends the day training with Soren. Only to find out he stinks at everything.

The rain pounded down. Typical Seattle weather. Rain. Rayla hated water, everything about it. But she had a job to do. This was her first run, and she had convinced her guardian, Runaan to bring her. She was wired and ready to go, the fifteen-year old knew she could do this as her team of elves moved through the metroplex. They had one mission tonight. They were to kill the CEO of Katolis Corp and his son in retaliation for the destruction of the Dragon King and the Dragon Prince AI’s. Their orders came directly from the Dragon Queen. The AI that controlled Xadia Incorporated. A defense company located in Tir Tairngire.

Just an hour ago the team of assassins had performed the binding ritual. The ritual tied cords around their wrist that would only come off when they had completed their mission. Rayla was told that failure would cost her life as the cords slowly tightened around her arm until it severed her hand, and she was expected to allow herself to bleed out. It was for this reason assassins of Xadia Inc. were not allowed to have cyberarms. She had also been told that no assassin has ever died like this, all having either completed their mission or died trying.

Currently, her team was on a surveillance mission through the city blocks that made up the Katolis Arcology grounds. Things had been going good so far. They hadn’t run into anyone. Skor’s drone buzzed by overhead causing Rayla to look up at the small craft, getting rain in her vibrant purple eyes. Her shoulder-length, white hair clung to her neck and forehead. Her green and black stealth suit, already form fitting, stuck to her body in various uncomfortable places. Drek, she hated the rain. She hated this whole fragging plex. It stank, it was dirty, it was crowded. But, she had to prove she could handle the job, Runaan believed in her. His husband had begged him not to bring her, saying she was too young. She would show Ethari that he was wrong.

Lightning flashed lighting up the surrounding streets. The sound of boot steps attracted Rayla’s attention. Just as the light was fading she could make out the outline of a person heading their way. She mentally switched her modified eyes to low-light. She could easily make the man out now. He was human, dressed in standard gear for Katolis Corp security. Low grade body armor and helmet, carrying a standard issue HK-227. No doubt his helmet had vision mods if his eyes themselves didn’t, he was certain to see them if he kept coming this direction.

‘Turn,’ Rayla thought. They only had two targets, no one else had to die. ‘For the love of all things holy! Turn!’

The guard kept coming. Rayla knew that if they were found Runaan would have him geeked. It could even be her he commanded to do it. He wasn’t the target, he didn’t need to die. Lightning flashed again. The guard reached up and toggled something on his helmet. Probably low-light, or worse, thermographic. He scanned the area with his carbine raised up. He swept past the team once, then a second time. Rayla silently hoped that the rain was enough to mask them or any heat signature. Her hopes were soon dashed.

“Who…. Who goes there?” the guard challenged, his voice shaky. He sounded so young. When no one answered, he reached up and toggled his helmet again.

‘Drek,’ Rayla thought, ‘thermo.’

As soon as his hand returned to the fore stock of the carbine, his head turned to the group of elves. It was immediately obvious they had been spotted. The guard took a short burst, clearly in panic. The round whizzed harmlessly over their heads. He dropped his weapon, allowing the sling to catch it on his shoulder, then he turned a ran. He was calling out, possibly to radio base. It didn’t sound like it was working.

Rayla’s headware radio came to life. Skor’s voice playing through her inner ear. “I’ve jammed his radio.”

“Good work, Skor,” Runaan’s voice answered, his sub-dermal mic allowing him to speak while still remaining relatively silent. “Rayla, after him.”

“Null perspiration,” Rayla said, her own internal mic allowing her to stay mostly silent. She rushed off. Her movements where slick, preternatural, enhanced by the wires that ran through her body making every muscle and nerve ready to react. She didn’t want to kill the man, but he had signed his own death warrant. He would meet his end on the wrong side of Rayla’s pistol, which she had drawn and ready to fire. She could see her target, he was about two blocks away. She watched the targeting information that filled her vision and made the decision not to fire. Runaan had taught her to conserve ammo and only shoot if she was sure she was going to hit. She blessed her foresight as her target turned a corner suddenly.

Rayla made her way to the corner and took the turn. The guard was stumbling down the street before his feet slipped on the wet concrete and sent him sprawling on the ground, his carbine slipping off his shoulder and clattering away from him while his helmet went in another direction. Rayla closed the distance to stand over the man. She used her foot to turn him on his back and leveled her pistol. Past all the info her smartlink was feeding her eye from her Ares Predator II she could see the man’s face. He was genuinely afraid. Afraid of death. Moonshadow elves like her were never afraid of death. The look in the man’s eyes was unsettling as he stared down the barrel of Rayla’s gun. Her finger hovered over the trigger. The guard’s fearful eyes shifted to her own. His eyes were light brown and innocent.

Rayla might have been an assassin, but she wasn’t a killer. This man had done nothing to her. She had been taught, ‘We take life, but we do not take it lightly.’ The guard had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Rayla lowered her pistol, not taking her eyes off of his. The guard took his queue, scrambling to his feet. He recovered his rifle and helmet and ran off into the rainy darkness. A soft buzzing caused Rayla to look up. Skor’s drone. Had it been armed, he probably would have used it to hunt down the man. But, it did mean, Runaan already knew she let the man go.

“Rayla!” Runaan’s voice sounded in her inner ear. “What are you doing?”

“He didn’t do anything to me, Runaan,” Rayla replied, speaking aloud. “Why did he deserve to die?”

“By sparing him, you have now killed us all,” Runaan said, sounding severe. “Return to the motel. We need to talk.”

Rayla sighed as she holstered her pistol with a sigh. She knew she had made the correct decision, now she just had to convince the rest of the team. They could still do this, there was no way human guards could now when they were coming. Besides, tomorrow night was the full moon, even if the humans were waiting for them, they would never see them coming. She was confident in the team.

The rest of the team; Runaan, Skor, Ram, Andromeda, and Callisto were waiting when she walked into the motel room. It was dingy and rundown with to filthy beds and a dresser with a small trideo on it. A Matrix terminal sat on the small table that separated the two beds. It was from here that Callisto would hack the arc’s security system. None of them looked please with her. Rayla looked at the floor, scared to meet Runaan’s fierce gaze.

“You know what has to be done, Runaan,” Skor said.

“Don’t tell me how to run my team, Skor,” Runaan said, cutting his stern gaze to the taller elf. “What were you thinking, Rayla?”

“I told you,” she said, looking defiant. “He didn’t do anything to me. You told me we don’t take life lightly. He was scared, Runaan!”

“Of course he was!” Runaan yelled. “Ethari was right, I should have never have brought you.”

“She must die,” Skor said.

“No,” Runaan said. “I will not kill her. Only because she is like a daughter to me. Rayla, you are here by banished. Seattle is your home now. You may never return to Tir Tairngire. Your bindings will fall off when we complete the mission, this is the last courtesy I will ever give you. Get out of my sight.”

Rayla took a couple steps away from Runaan as she felt the tears start to well up in her eyes. She turned before she completely broke out in tears. She ran from the room into the stormy night, crying.

Rayla knew she had to make this right, she could make this right, she would make it right. She could see the sky scrapper that reached above its neighbors. It was the headquarters and home of the CEO of Katolis Corp and his son. She would sneak into the building and complete the mission, then Runaan would see that he had made a mistake.

* * *

Rain pelted against the window of Callum’s bedroom. He was seated at his desk working on his tablet watching as the lines appeared on his vid screen. It was a picture of a dragon burning a man made entirely of marshmallows. He chuckled to himself at the pure silliness of the picture. The fourteen-year-old liked to draw, it really was the only thing he was good at, it his opinion at least. He was currently working on the flames that torched the poor, defenseless marshmallow man.

“Burn marshmallow man,” Callum said to himself as he colored in the flames. He giggled again as thunder crash outside eliciting a small whimper from the adjoining room. It was Callum’s ten-year-old brother, well, half-brother.

“Callum?” the little boy called out.

“It’s okay, Ezran. It’s just a storm,” Callum said, looking up, his voice soothing. He brushed the mop of chestnut hair out of his jade eyes.

“I wasn’t scared,” Ezran lied. “It was Bait, he was scared.” Ezran motioned to a small toad like drone at his side. Ezran had built it himself. Callum could swear that the thing had a personality, and that personality was mostly grumpy. At hearing its master say it was scared its normally yellow optical sensors turned a bright red.

“Ez,” Callum said, putting his stylus down and frowned at his younger brother, “drones don’t get scared.” Bait quite agreed with the older boy, it considered itself a rather brave little drone and didn’t like being called scared. Callum just shook his head as the drones optics faded back to yellow. He had to admit, at ten-years-old his little brother was a wizard with electronics. It brought Callum’s own feelings of inadequacy into sharp relief.

Callum’s inadequacy was thrown back in his face the next morning. He was on the shooting-range in the courtyard of the arcology’s main building. He had his ears covered, and shooting glasses on. His firearms instructor, Soren, stood next to him, loading the Colt America Callum would be using. Callum already knew he wasn’t a good shot by any definition. But, he was expected to learn, and he didn’t want to disappoint his step-father, the CEO of Katolis Corp. It didn’t pay to be the step-son of one of the biggest defense contractors in the UCAS and not know how to use the products.

Soren nudged his arm, and said “Come on step-son.” Callum disliked the nickname, all it did was remind him Harrow wasn’t his real father, even though the man treated him as nothing less than a son. Soren proffered the small firearm. Callum took it and hefted it in his hand. It felt heavy, especially with a full magazine. He turned to speak to Soren, to complain about the weight only to have Soren force his hand so the pistol was pointed down the range. “Careful, step-son. You’re trying to hurt somebody. Always keep a weapon pointed down range, even if you are one hundred percent sure it’s unloaded, because you’d probably be wrong. Now come on, three shots, center mass.”

Callum looked at the target. It was only about 10 meters away from him, but it might as well had been a kilometre as far as Callum was concerned. He leveled the pistol and tried to get a sight picture the way Soren had shown him. He never remembered what was supposed to line up with what. He gave the trigger a pull. The pistols report was loud even through his hearing protection. The spent casing ejected from the weapon and sailed through the air, landing against his neck, caught by his scarf. Callum quickly shook it out before he lined up the next shot. He pulled the trigger again. Then a third time. Each time, the casing hit him. After the third round, Callum placed the pistol down and looked at the target, it was still unblemished.

“Geez, step-son,” Soren said, teasing him. “I don’t think you even hit the back stop.”

“I’m trying my best, Soren,” Callum said in a huff.

“Alright, you suck with guns. Let’s just move on to your mixed martial arts training,” Soren said as he unloaded the pistol Callum had been using.

Callum next found himself in the courtyard proper standing across from the blonde haired boy that was easily twice his size. Soren had muscles in place most people didn’t have places. Callum hated this even more than firearms training. Soren always toyed with him, like a cat playing with a mouse before he kills it. Today looked like it was going to be more of the same as Soren pounded his gloved hands together. Callum gave a great sigh, dreading this whole ordeal.

“We’ll be working on the art….” Soren started.

“Art? Finally, something I’m good at!” Callum interrupted.

Soren rolled his eyes, before saying, “The art of defense. Now, keep your head tucked between your gloves and your elbows tight against your side.” Callum stood as he was instructed, at least he thought he was. Soren hit him in the side of the head. It hurt. “And, you just got knocked out. Keep your hands up.” Soren swung again, hitting Callum on the other side of his head. “Knocked out again.”

Callum took it upon himself to got on the offensive, tired of the constant teasing. He crouched down low and swung his leg out. Soren kicked out and knocked the foot that Callum was planted on out from under him sending Callum sprawling on the ground. Soren was laughing at him again.

“What the hell was that?” Soren asked.

“Um, sweeping the leg?” Callum inquired.

“Sweep the leg is not a thing in mix martial arts,” Soren said as he pulled Callum to his feet.

Soren had begun explaining himself, but Callum didn’t catch a word he said. Instead, Callum’s attention was on the thin girl with long black hair with neon purple tips and brilliant emerald eyes. It was Soren’s younger sister, Claudia. Callum thought she was beautiful. His crush ever since he started to notice boys and girls where built different. Which, interestingly enough, was about the time Claudia started to blossom.

“Hi, Claudia,” Callum called out with an over enthusiastic wave.

Claudia looked up from the book she was reading, “Oh, hey, Callum,” she greeted him with a warm smile and shy wave.

Soren stopped talking and looked over his shoulder to see his sister. He looked back at Callum. “Oh, I see what’s going on,” he said. “I’ll help you out. Come at me this time.”

Callum responded by delivering a couple wild punches to Soren’s head and a side kick to Soren’s mid-section. Neither hit had been particularly effective, but Soren doubled over. He was really hamming it up.

“Ow. Oh. Ouch. My stomach. He got me right in the liver. He’s not the step-son, he’s the kick-son,” Soren said, continuing to feign pain.

“Good job, Callum,” Claudia said with a giggle. “He probably deserved it,” she said more to herself than anyone.

“Callum,” a tall blonde woman in her late twenties called for his attention. She was dressed in a white and gold suit skirt that was immaculately cleaned and pressed.

“Yes, Opeli?” Callum asked. Opeli was Harrow’s secretary, and a very business like.

“Your father wants to see you,” she said.

“I’m not really hurt,” Soren said. “I was just playing.”


End file.
